Project Seventh

SEVENTH DAY | WEEK TWENTY-SIX | 2020 JUNETEENTH 

I can't breathe.

Those were the dying words of George Floyd. Those were also the dying words of Eric Gardner. Those were the unheard dying words of the many black men, women, and children whose lives perished due to centuries of social injustice and the lethal nature of racism.

The sad truth is…they will not be the last.

Black people are still gasping for air centuries after the first slaves were stolen from their homes and forced into slavery, 155 years after their emancipation, and more than five decades after the passage of the Civil Rights Act. Social injustice pervades today in all areas of black lives -- in housing, education, employment, and health care.

It is not easy to live if you are redlined into densely packed, crime-ridden urban areas. It is challenging to get a quality education if you are stuck in underfinanced, substandard schools. It is difficult to create wealth if you are systematically discriminated in all areas of life that matter.

So, when people say "all lives matter," they're missing the point. Yes, all lives matter, but not all lives have been in a state of terror for more than 400 years in this country. Saying "all lives matter" is like ignoring a chronic heart disease because all your organs matter. It discounts and diminishes the focus where it is needed: the chronic subjugation of black lives and the deep structural inequality that they face every day.

There comes a time in every generation when the wound becomes so infected that the body of people cannot stand it. Now is one of those times.

SEVENTH DAY | WEEK TWENTY-SEVEN | 2015

Today is my brother’s birthday.

He wore that t-shirt in the heat of his battle with pancreatic cancer last year, 112 days before his birthday.

To show us that he’s not giving up.  To show us that cancer may take away his physical abilities, but not his spirit. That he will not let cancer touch his heart. He will not let it touch his soul.

And show us he did.

Through it all, I watched cancer broke the threads that hold his body as it slowly turned him into a carcass that I barely recognized. I watched him struggled for every breath. I felt his pain every time he moved. I heard his agony in the middle of the night.

And yet his heart remained unbroken. His soul remained untouched by a ruthless disease that doesn’t care who it takes and who it hurts.

He fought like a warrior. He could have given up easily, but he gave it his all instead. He will not go quietly into the night. He will not die without a fight.

During these moments, I realized that my suffering was nothing compared to his. He was fighting for his life. The things that we complain about, the obsession to get things right, can sometimes make us lose sight of those that matter. And those that matter won’t be here forever. I realized that life is so fragile and unpredictable, I needed to make it matter more; cherish every moment, enjoy the people that I love - and hug them a little more, a little tighter.

In the end, he wore that same smile after his last breath, 20 days before his birthday.

To show us that he had won. To show us that he’s now at peace. That cancer lost its strength...and love and hope prevailed.